


I Go Hunting for Someone like You

by SpringReader



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Spoilers for Season 1, Tyrell is a nerd, and Elliot is a pyro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpringReader/pseuds/SpringReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I thought I’d feel guilty for being a murderer, but I don’t.” He sees fear flicker in Elliot’s eyes. But then something else, something darker. “I feel wonder.”</em>
</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>The serial killer fic no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Tell Me You like to Burn a Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, title from Years & Years - Ties

The first time was an accident.

The guy had been bothering her for a few songs now, his arm draping heavy over her shoulders as she stood at the bar. She leaves for the bathroom, her drink unattended, not very smart on her part, but she shouldn’t have to be. Tyrell stops dancing when he sees him slip something in it.

He means to pull his punches, he really does, but the anger burns him up from the inside out, his knuckles being the only point of release. Tyrell has him pushed up against some wall out back, and it only takes a couple minutes before the guy slumps to the ground, head lulling to one side, by then, Tyrell realised the guy wasn’t breathing.

The first time was an accident. It really was.

-

His first week at E Corp and Mark from two desks down invites him out for drinks, he says yes.

Three dances in and then they’re kissing, hands rucking up each other’s shirts when a hand lands on his shoulder, spins him around and smacks him across the jaw. Before Tyrell knows what he’s doing he’s hitting the guy back, one blow to the nose, another to the stomach. The guys doubled over, spluttering blood into his hand and Tyrell can feel that same itch burn under his skin again. But Mark is behind him, pawing at his back, _that’s my ex, it’s okay, he’s not worth it_ , and he looks around, he sees too many eyes on them, some cameras too, so he lets the guy go, turns back to Mark and walks him home.

Whilst Mark tells him about his family Tyrell imagines going back to the club, slamming the jerk against a wall and choking the life out of him.

-

“Oh, hi.” He extends a hand, and the guy in front of him looks scared, eyes wide, “Tyrell Wellick. I’m senior Vice President, Technology.”

“Elliot.” He shrugs, “Just a tech.”

“Don’t be so humble. You know I started out exactly where you are and… to be honest, you know, my heart is still there. So I see you’re running Gnome. You know I’m actually on KDE myself.” He’s trying to impress, doesn’t know why, but he wants to prove himself different from the typically technologically impaired superiors, take Colby for instance, what sort of CTO uses a blackberry? “I know this desktop environment is supposed to be better but… you know what they say. Old habits- they die hard.” He almost stops himself, can’t understand why he’s compelled to convince this stranger, but he sees a flicker of recognition of Elliot’s face, a small smile before disappearing, and he can’t stop himself, “Yeah I know what you’re thinking. I’m an executive, I mean… why am I even running Linux? Again- old habits.” He sees Elliot’s shoulders relax, and he’s tempted to pull up a chair, wants to hear Elliot’s thoughts, but he knows he’s been missing for too long, “It’s gonna be fun working with you. I should join the rest of the group.” He steps away, and if he’s glad that he sees a little disappointment in Elliot’s eyes, then that’s his secret. “Bonsoir Elliot.”

-

Sophie asks him out for dinner. She knows he’s married, he knows she’s engaged. He says yes.

She takes him to some Italian restaurant he’s never been to before, and when they enter the waiter smiles and kisses her cheek. She tells him that they used to date in high school, _yeah Alex and I we uh, we were sort of childhood sweethearts_.

After they eat he drives her home, she invites him up and they fuck on the sofa.

-

“Power belongs to people who take it. Nothing to do with their hard work, strong ambitions, or rightful qualifications, no. The actual will to take is often the only thing that’s necessary.”

He sits surrounded by lawyers, and Elliot’s staring at him with a strange look in his eye.

“Technically what we’re doing here might be considered illegal.”

The circle table adds a nice touch, gives the illusion of equality, but Tyrell knows that that couldn’t be further from the truth, and he’s sure Elliot does too.

“I want to offer you a position here at Evil Corp. I want you to head our cybersecurity division.”

He sends the lawyers out, has to swallow his anger when they stare Elliot down in passing, not even bothering to put their chairs back.

 “If you do this- When you do this, you’ll become a multimillionaire in the next five years. What do you say?”

Tyrell crowds into Elliot’s space, until they’re standing face to face, but Elliot won’t look him in the eyes. Tyrell wants to reach for him, tilt his chin up until their eye to eye because he needs Elliot to _understand_.

“I want you to be where you belong: here with me.”

Tyrell watches as Elliot hesitates, “I think I’m happy where I am.”

The rejection hurts, seeps into his skin and his first instinct is to attack, to slam his fist into Elliot’s jaw, watch as he’d stumble back. But Tyrell would grab his arm, pull him back to him, and walk them both backwards until Elliot’s legs hit the table. He’d trail his fingers over Elliot’s reddening jaw, and then Tyrell wouldn’t be able to resist, he’d lean in-

Instead he backs off, stares out over the city and tries to hide the pain that must be so plainly on his face.

That night he heads back to the restaurant and flirts with the same waiter that served him and Sophie, until he pulls Tyrell into a bathroom stall and drops to his knees.

“Fuck you’re hot.” Alex drawls as he unbuckles his belt whilst Tyrell thinks of that damn tech.

The police find Alex’s body three days later. Sophie sees Tyrell during her lunch break, eyes red from crying as she tells him she was taken in for questioning, tells him they found him in the canal, his neck bruised.

-

“You think I could have $300 this time?”

Tyrell chuckles and hands the cash over to the man, the red angry marks on his face still fresh from their last trade.

“Bad day at the office?”

His punches land squarely but the fire under his skin doesn’t die, feels no release hitting a man who can’t hit back.

“Please, enough. No more.” The guy begs.

Tyrell kicks him, knows he shouldn’t but he’s gone long past caring. His security team is watching him, so he prods the guy with his foot, makes sure he’s still breathing.

-

He finds Elliot standing guiltily in the restroom.

“I had to wash my face. Hard to breath here.”

“I know you framed Terry Colby.”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Your father worked at E Corp before he died. That’s a matter of public record.” He says as Elliot’s face turns angry, his bottom lip jutting out as he frowns down at the ground.

Tyrell suddenly has visions of pushing him down to his knees and putting those lips to good use, and he has to wash his hands just to stop himself from reaching out. “I’m not turning you in if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t even have proof, and even if I did, I don’t care. Just wanted to know your weakness.” He looks at Elliot in the reflection of the mirror, Elliot’s staring, Tyrell is staring right back. “Now I do. Revenge. How ordinary.” He lets disappointment colour his words as he dries his hands. “But even extraordinary people, and I believe you are, are driven by human banalities. And unfortunately we’re all human. Except me, of course.”

Tyrell turns to face him, and he looks scared.

“I’m joking Elliot.” He takes another step forward, so close his fingers could brush up against Elliot’s jeans, pull him in by his belt loops until their chests touched, instead he lets his voice drop low, “Enjoy your long drive back home. I’m having a helicopter take me back to New York.” He clutches at Elliot’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing over the black hoodie, and Elliot flinches, his sudden intake of breath loud in the otherwise quiet room, “You take care Elliot.” Elliot’s still staring at him, eyes wide and mouth open and it takes everything Tyrell has to not to kiss him, not to mark him up the way he’s imagined since the first day they met.

He quickly turns, pulls the door open and strides out into the hall.

-

“Meet me on the roof. The cameras have been down since March. No one will know.”

He hears the door open, hears the sound of unsteady heels against the gravel.

“I just came up here to see if you really were as gullible as you seem.” Sharon smirks at him, and he doesn’t rise to the bait, has hung around with people like her long enough to know how to get under their skin. She steps closer.

“My husband’s down stairs getting the job that you want, and you’re up here trying to fuck me. Scott plans on firing you, and you are clinging on to any chance you can get. You seem desperate.” She tilts her chin up, the smirk still pulling at the corner of her mouth.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to, just steps forwards and kisses her, hands grabbing at her face and she falls into him, hands cording through his hair and he has to bite back a laugh, because he isn’t the one coming off as desperate.

Suddenly they’re on the floor, and he’s between her legs and she’s keening up into him, moaning like she hasn’t been fucked in a while.

He rolls his hips and she gasps into his mouth and he knows that if he pulled at her dress she’d let him, she’d let him fuck her right here on the roof with her husband two floors down.

He thinks back to the party, how arrogant she’d been, _don’t tell me you’re still sore, one tiny curveball and you gave up,_ as though she had any clue, and yet for all her fucking talk, when the chips are down, she’s just as fucking desperate as the rest.

And suddenly he’s angry, angry at her, this woman who thought she knew better, at her husband, who never allows him to win, angry at the whole goddamn system for thinking it knew better, and angry at himself for letting it affect him. His vision blurs, red around the edges as he lets the hot searing anger consume him.

His hands come up to her neck, Joanna’s earlier words circling his mind, _steady_ , and it’s the easiest thing in the world to just squeeze.

She immediately fights against him, balls up her fists as she hits him, and it good, it’s what he wants, something to fight back.

“What do you -Get off of me!” She croaks out and he can see the panic flare up in her eyes and he can feel her pulse jump under his hands and he distantly wonders what he must look like.

“Stop.”

He feels drunk, the noise of the wind and distant traffic falls away leaving him with nothing but the sound of his own breathing and her heels scraping against the cement.

Her hands fall at her side, the fight leaving her. Suddenly her pulse falters before disappearing completely.

It’s then he realises he isn’t wearing gloves.

_Fuck._

He panics.

-

The police come to his house.

“Good evening, Mr Wellick. I’m Detective Quattlander. This is Detective Jones.”

-

Tyrell is in Elliot’s apartment.

“I’ve been waiting outside your apartment until she left. Didn’t want anyone to know I was here. I know you’re behind it, all of it, F society, the server, Colby, Allsafe. You’re the one constant in a sea of variables.”

Tyrell locks the door, takes of his jacket.

“Elliot, now I don’t know what your grand plan is, but I need to and you’re going to tell me.”

He puts the gloves on, can’t make that mistake again, not now.

He hesitates, “Two days ago I strangled a woman to death just with my hands. That’s a strange sensation.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying all of this, he wants to stop but suddenly the words are tumbling out of him.

“Something so tremendous done by something so simple. The first ten seconds were… uncomfortable, a feeling of limbo, but then your muscles tense, and she struggles and fights, but it almost disappears in the background along with everything else in the world. At that moment it’s just you and absolute power, nothing else.”

Elliot looks angry, like he wants to hit him, he almost wishes he would.

“That moment stayed with me.”

Tyrell stands tall, presses into Elliot’s space and he doesn’t back off, just watches as Tyrell crowds into him, and they’re close, closer than they’ve ever been.

“I thought I’d feel guilty for being a murderer, but I don’t.” He sees fear flicker in Elliot’s eyes. But then something else, something darker. “I feel wonder.”

Tyrell’s hands reach for Elliot’s face, his thumb pulling at his lower lip and Elliot won’t stop staring at him. Tyrell knows he has to do something, kill him, kiss him, just has to do something. But he can feel Elliot’s breath on his neck and that’s Elliot’s chest pressing against his and for the first time in a long time he _can’t think._

But then Elliot’s hands are on his hips, and he’s walking Tyrell backwards, and when his back hits the wall Elliot’s kissing him. Tyrell kisses him back, all teeth and tongue and, _you seem desperate,_ he can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth.

Elliot pulls away, and before Tyrell can whine, his mouth is on his neck, and he’s mumbling against his skin, “I need you to show me, I need you to show me what it’s like.”

Tyrell opens his eyes and Elliot is looking up at him and his cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown wide, “Show me.”

So he does.


	2. You Keep Me from Crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re friends of your wife. We thought we’d come and introduce ourselves.” Tyrell does the talking, all smooth lines and cocky smirks, Elliot just stands back and admires. Tyrell reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a pair of blue gloves, takes his time, makes a show of it, snapping them on one by one.

“I don’t like him, something about him don’t sit right.” Detective Jones flips through his notebook, goes over the details again; _two known victims- Alex Raines, Sharon Knowles, strangled, possible serial, Tyrell Wellick- prime suspect_.

“You think we should keep an eye on him?” Quattlander sits opposite him in the booth, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, and on that wife of his, she knows something too I bet.”

-

Elliot talks about the man in the flat above, a dark gleam in his eye as he describes the sounds he hears at night, the wife’s bruised arms and black eyes the next morning.

They track his phone and find him in some dive downtown, nursing a half empty beer as he shouts at a game. Tyrell pulls him by his collar, no one in the bar even notices, and drags him into the alley out back. He puts up a fight, heels scraping against the dirty concrete but his protests come out slurred, his tongue heavy with cheap liquor. Tyrell lets him go, and the guys knees give out, his back slumping into the brick wall. The guy in front of them; Eddie Brent, is sneering up at them, he tries to stand up, fails.

“Who the fuck are you?” His head rolls forward and for a second Elliot is sure that he’s passed out, but then his head snaps upwards, eyes blearily tracking Tyrell.

“We’re friends of your wife. We thought we’d come and introduce ourselves.” Tyrell does the talking, all smooth lines and cocky smirks, Elliot just stands back and admires. Tyrell reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a pair of blue gloves, takes his time, makes a show of it, snapping them on one by one.

“That bitch doesn’t have any friends.” Brent coughs, doesn’t even bother to cover his mouth. Elliot’s eyes are drawn to the graffiti behind Brent’s head, _eat the rich_ , the red paint has dribbled down the wall.

“Wait- I know you.” He points a grubby finger at Elliot and Tyrell takes a step towards him, always towards Elliot. “Yeah, yeah, you live downstairs. The freak with the computer.” He laughs, loud and ugly, and a train rattles over them, drowning out his snorts, his finger still out. Tyrell grabs it, pulls it up and Brent screams, Tyrell just leans in, “Don’t _fucking_ call him that.”

Brent stops struggling when Tyrell slams his head into the concrete wall, Elliot watches as his blood mixes with the graffiti.

Tyrell reaches into Brent’s jacket, fishes out his wallet, slips of his watch, he’ll stuff it into the coffee cup of the next homeless guy he sees, they’ve got to start covering their tracks.

Another train rolls over them and the light cuts in and out over and over, reminds Elliot of a club that Darlene once dragged him into, how the lighting made everything seem disjointed and unreal. Tyrell is staring at him, his hair has fallen in front of his eyes, the changing shadows from the overhead bridge carving his face into something inhuman. When Tyrell steps towards him Elliot doesn’t even see him move, but suddenly he’s there, in front of him, tall and dark and totally in control.

 “We’ve got to go.” Tyrell says, voice steady.

The blood got onto his hands despite the gloves, got under his nails and dried over his knuckles, and yet when he reaches for Elliot’s hand, Elliot squeezes back just as hard.

 -

Back in the safety of Elliot’s apartment, Tyrell pushes Elliot onto the sofa and drops to his knees, because he can and he wants to and those are Elliot’s hands in his hair and fuck if Tyrell ever let a good thing pass by.

-

“Are you okay?” Tyrell is looking at him from the other side of the couch, his cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. Elliot doesn’t answer, doesn’t know how to, so Tyrell slides towards him, puts a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him in until their foreheads are touching, “No one is going to miss him Elliot. No one.”

-

“We got a body. Some guy found this morning, a Mr Edward Brent, head bashed in.” Sergeant Lubbit clicks through the photos on the screen, Quattlander looks away, it’s too goddamn early in the morning for brains on a sidewalk. “His wallet hasn’t been found so we assumed it was a mugging gone wrong. There’s no CCTV of the attack, but last bit of footage of him was from inside the bar,” Lubbit clicks again and the footage plays on the screen, super grainy, black and white video of Brent at the bar when some guy in a shirt and tie comes up to him gets him by the neck and pulls him out of shot.

Jones leans forward in his chair.

-

Elliot sees the wife a few days later, trudging up the stairwell with groceries, the kid in tow. Elliot helps her with the bags, notices she’s stopped wearing so many scarves. Margaret, _call me Maggy_ , invites him up for dinner that night, he declines, _maybe another time_.

-

Captain Smythe calls both detectives into his office later that week.

“So, this Tyrell Wellick, you fancy him as a serial huh? You spoke to him yet?” Smythe asks.

“About a week ago. After the second body was identified.” Quattlander takes the photos out from the file in his hands, places them on the desk for Smythe to see.  

“And now another body has been found? This Edward Brent.” He gestures to one photograph, Brent’s body slumped over in a gutter somewhere, drying blood surrounding him like some kind of subpar halo.

“Yes sir.”

 “And what do you think?” He picks up a different photograph, a candid of Wellick walking down a street somewhere, smiling cheerfully as he talks to the man he’s walking with, his crisp suit and slicked back hair stark compared to the other man’s black hoodie and dark crew cut. “Did he do it?”

Quattlander almost laughed, “Sir, we don’t have enough evid-”

“You _know_ that that’s not what I’m asking.” He looks towards Jones, “What’s your gut telling you?”

Jones sits down heavily in one of the plush chairs in the office and looks Smythe straight in the eye, “Yeah. He did it.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this has taken so long to update but work has been kicking my butt lately, and im sorry that this is so short i promise the next one will be longer but i just need to figure out where im actually going with this fic cause right now i have no idea whoops  
> chapter title is from SIVIK - high which is such a tyrelliot song like omg


	3. Drink down Your Gin and Kerosene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He teaches Elliot how to shoot using some guy wearing knuckle dusters and a fake Rolex, “Just relax your shoulder and don’t lock your elbow.”

One night Tyrell finds the gun that Elliot keeps under his pillow.

“Don’t you feel safe with me?”

Elliot slowly blinks his eyes open, can barely make out Tyrell kneeling next to him in the dark, the gun between them.

Elliot sits up, kicks the blanket to his feet, the A/C broke three days into July and it’s too goddamn hot, “You’re not always here.”

Tyrell goes silent at that and he admires the gun for a moment, and it’s nice; a glock, and he likes the feeling it gives him, he feels dangerous. He places the gun under Elliot’s chin, smiles when Elliot doesn’t even flinch.

“Have you ever shot anyone Elliot?”

Elliot shakes his head.

“Do you want to?”

-

When Tyrell was eight he spent the first half of his summer holiday in the attic of his house, searching through the endless boxes up there for nothing in particular, just trying to mute out his parents shouting. He finds a camera, one that he’s never seen before, and teaches himself how to use it. He runs around town and points and clicks at everything, his head teacher’s mistress, his father’s gambling receipts, his neighbour’s drug dealer. The rest of his summer was spent learning that people are inherently evil and deserve to be put down.

-

He teaches Elliot how to shoot using some guy wearing knuckle dusters and a fake Rolex, “Just relax your shoulder and don’t lock your elbow.”

The guy’s slumped up against a wall out the back of a noisy casino someplace downtown, he’s long past dead, with two bullets to the head curtesy of Tyrell.

“Remember, press the trigger gently, don’t rush it.” Tyrell stands behind Elliot, his hands at his waist as Elliot points the gun at their target. The gun goes off and the sound gets lost amongst the noise of the casino and the bullet lands somewhere in the guys right shoulder, “Better, but your still tensing your shoulders when you shoot, try again.”

Elliot huffs but raises the gun again nonetheless and Tyrell moves his hands to Elliot’s hips and lets his thumbs slip under his shirt, he can feel Elliot tense and he presses his lips to the crook of his neck, “Relax.” Elliot slowly breathes out and Tyrell can feel the muscles under Elliot’s skin shift. He hears the gun go off again and when he looks up he sees a third bullet hole in the guy’s head like some fucked up Orion’s belt.

-

Jones runs into Sergeant Lubbit in the elevator up to their floor.

“How’s the serial case going?” Lubbit says through a mouthful of ramen.

“Uh slow.” He puts his phone back in his pocket, “Although we have a new lead.”

“Oh?” The elevator stops, a couple of people step off.

“Yeah, he seems pretty chummy with Wellick, so he probably knows something. In fact,” Jones opens the file he has in his hands, flicks through the pages and pulls out a photograph, offers it to Lubbit, “here he is; Elliot Alderson; the one in the hoodie.”

Lubbit wipes her hand on her trousers before taking it from him, it’s a candid photograph, both Wellick and Alderson heading down apartment steps and onto the sidewalk. Wellick is mid-sentence, eyes wide and animated, hands caught in a big gesture as he smiles up at Alderson two steps behind him. Alderson is looking down at the steps ahead of him, and despite his uncomfortable body language; hands in pockets, shoulders hunched over, he’s smiling.

“You say these guys are friends?” Lubbit asks.

“Yeah. Well, we’ve spotted them together a lot recently, going for meals, coffee, leaving each other’s apartments-”

Lubbit raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah I know right. Last time we checked Tyrell was married.” he shrugs, “I mean, there’s only so many times you can see a guy leave someone else’s apartment the next morning in the same clothes before getting suspicious.”

Lubbit looks back at the photo, sees the look on Wellick’s face as he looks up at Alderson, sees the adoration there. The elevator doors slide open to their floor.

Lubbit snorts, “Huh. Well good luck Jones.”

-

The next night they walk down a street a couple of blocks from Elliot’s apartment, walk past an alley where three guys are beating on a girl.

Tyrell shoots all four of them, and suddenly his back is against the wall and Elliot punches him straight across the jaw. Tyrell has to blink away the spots in front of his eyes for a second before he can focus back on Elliot.

“What the fuck was that?” Elliot screams and Tyrell can taste blood in his mouth and he has officially no idea what’s going on.

“You shot them.” Elliot’s hands grab at Tyrells lapels, and Tyrell recognises the look on his face, the feeling of so much _fucking_ anger and no idea what to do with it.

“That’s what we do Elliot.”

“No, not her.” Elliot scrunches his eyes shut for a second, looking for the right words, “We only shoot the bad guys.”

Tyrell frowns, “I think you’re confusing me for Batman.”

Elliot slams him back into the wall again.

“We’re murderers Elliot. We murder people. The moral compasses of the people we kill don’t change that.”

Elliot shakes his head, “You’re wrong.”

In the distance Tyrell can hear sirens, and he has to bite down the temptation to just grab Elliot’s hand and run, but he wants to see where this is going, “No I’m not.”

And then Elliot steps back, pulls up his hood and walks away.

-

Tyrell doesn’t hear the front door open, just comes back from the living room to find Elliot standing in his kitchen, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a lighter, his thumb absentmindedly rolling over it and igniting it.

“I wanna burn it down.” Elliot says, eyes on the lighter.

“Burn what down?”

“E-Corp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry this is so fucking short but uni has just started and im like a professional procrastinator at this point
> 
> BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN SEASON 2 GUYS?? IS DARLENE OKAY??? FINALLY WE SAW TYRELL I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA PASS OUT

**Author's Note:**

> I'll just be over [here](http://winter-shoulder.tumblr.com/), screaming forever about season 2


End file.
